


Serendipitous Misfortune

by methylviolet10b



Series: Sometimes Drabbles Evolve [6]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Angst and Humor, Drabble Sequence, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 14:11:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watson encounters many difficulties when trying to rejoin Holmes during a case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Serendipitous Misfortune

**Author's Note:**

> Written for JWP #8 on Watson's Woes: **Prompt** : _Accidents._ \- and also for the five drabble words bolded in the title for each section.  
> 

  
  
  


**Fallow**

First the incident with the wash-water, then the wrong directions, then the accident with the inkwell, and now I’d missed the last train of the day. Holmes expected me on that train. Worse, I had no way to wire him of the change; I knew the village telegraph was broken.

I looked around the landscape, at the few clustered buildings surrounded by fallow fields. The likelihood of finding any means of transport from this village seemed dim, indeed. But I was determined to try. The case would not wait – and neither would Holmes. And spending another night here lacked appeal.

 

**Stutter**

The wagon was old. There was scarcely enough room on the wooden seat for two. And the carter had a pronounced stutter, particularly when speaking to (or of) women. But despite that, he was willing to take me with him to the next village, where they had horses for hire.

At least I believe that is what he told me, and the innkeeper agreed. So I paid him a small fee, and we set out.

Miles seem long when your companion trips over words slower than the horse tramps out paces.

They are even slower when you crack a wheel.

 

**Perfect**

I prefer not to remember the rest of that journey. By the time we reached the next village, my patience was strained to the breaking-point.

But it was on the main road, and boasted a livery stable with horses for hire. I negotiated a reasonable fee, and left within a half-hour on the back of an ugly but sturdy roan.

The gelding had a calm temper and good manners, and its gait was rapid if rougher than I would have desired. We made excellent time – until he pulled up lame, several miles short of my destination.

“Just perfect,” I sighed.

 

**Stumble**

I checked the hooves, and pried loose the nail it had picked up, but the poor beast still limped. I dared not re-mount and add to its woes. Instead, I started walking, the horse pacing alongside as best it could.

Within five minutes, it started raining.

By the time an hour had passed, I was soaked through despite my coat and hat.

Sometime in the second hour, a momentary stumble turned into a mudbath and a turned ankle. Fortunately, my horse did not bolt, but now we had matching limps.

It was pitch-black by the time I reached Holmes’ inn.

 

**Weregild**

I staggered through the door and saw a white-faced Holmes pacing the length of the common-room. He spied me, started, and dropped his cigarette. “Watson!”

Within minutes, Holmes had me in a chair in front of the fire, a hot toddy in my hand, and the promise of a hot bath and a good meal as soon as possible. “Now speak: what happened?”

He listened to my sorry tale of misfortunes, then took my hand. “That weregild of woes spared you a far worse fate, my dear Watson. Your train derailed. They’re still trying to identify the wounded – and dead.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted July 24, 2012


End file.
